Broken, Unhappy and FarOff Things
by FLECHER
Summary: Everyone else is committed and focused, adament in their loyalty to the commander; preparing for the final mission. It might be the last thing they ever do, but they had their closure; they were ready. What about Shepard? FemShepard/Samara OneShot


Like I said in "**Hell No**" - I had another oneshot being looked over by a close friend. The title for this is taken from a pre-service history mission from ME1 called "Old, Unhappy and Far-off things" but I thought 'Broken' was better for this.

Couldn't help myself when I found out about the somewhat romance scene with Samara, emphasis on '_somewhat_'. But she's my overall favorite out of the characters in ME2, and I would've preffered something like this; I've used some of the wording from the in-game scene, but changed it around to suit the situation I've written.

Ashira is a well developed character for me even though I've written relatively little about her _here_; so this will obviously have more emotional impact on me as her creator, I just wanted to write this. But I hope that I convey the kind of person Ash is, and what she's been through, with the bits and pieces of information here and there.

So, here it is.

* * *

Two hours, it seemed so long for such little time, but Ashira spent it away from the team. She had settled their inside disputes, won their loyalties, spoken with the crew when time permitted. But through it all, the Illusive Man's question still hung in her thoughts.

"_Can I assume you've put your past relationships behind you?"_

The Commander gave a morose smile, remembering her response; she walked into her cabin, settling down at her desk.

"_None of your damn business."_

He had left it at that, 'trusting' in the Commander to sort out her own issues. But she had yet to do that. Probably never would. Even if they survived this, her issues wouldn't be fixed; it was too hard, too painful.

Her stone hued eyes were glassy as she stared at the picture on her desk; the image of Liara was disconcerting to say the least. Love was no easy concept for her, having lost the only person she had cared for before at Akuze.

The memory still caused a sting in her heart; a thresher maw bursting from the ground, Nicole Thorns - a young technician - running for her life. Her mouth opened in a scream for Ashira, reaching for her outstretched hand, the sound lost among gunfire and roars. Then blood splattered on the ground, a thresher's spike piercing Nicole's chest. She was flung back like a rag doll out of sight.

Ashira closed her eyes, running her hands through her hair.

She thought everything would be okay once she saw Liara again; what a fool. The only word that fit their reunion would be, bittersweet. She had been happy to see her for a scant three seconds, before realising that Liara had changed, almost irrevocably so.

The woman she met was cold, ruthless; vicious. Nothing like the innocent, awkward and yet oh so adorable scientist she _used_ to know.

Ashira lifted her head, staring at the picture again. It seemed all she had left of the woman she had known; because that woman seemed to be dead by all accounts.

She wasn't even sure of her own emotions anymore, not after everything that had happened during the course of this mission. Her feelings for the former scientist had been wounded, and she had been so quick to bury her pain under a stony exterior - acting as if everything was normal.

Her preferred squad mates would have noticed the difference, she changed into a different person when wearing her armour. Logical, tactical and seemingly indifferent until the need for negotiation arrived. It was almost like she lifted herself above the judgement of others, not with the sense that she was better than them, but as if she were a guardian, an overseer of some greater force telling her how events would play out.

It was a strange thing to witness to say the least, she was completely different. Out of her armour though, she was quiet and reclusive, and very calm when spoken to. It had given Samara enough concern for her to voice it when they had stood outside Afterlife's VIP area, about to lure Morinth. However, Ashira had shown herself quite capable of acting a part.

And there was the reason for her conflict, the Justicar herself. Someone she felt more connected to than anyone else in her squad. With Liara, it had been the scientist who was drawn to her, not the other way around. A pleasant if somewhat destabilizing surprise for the Commander at the time. But this time, Ashira was in Liara's place. Drawn to another; like she had been with Nicole.

The Commander grit her teeth, curling up in her seat and resting her head on the desk, wrapping her arms around herself. She had wanted to believe that things would be back to normal, relatively speaking. A bitter smile crossed her lips, karma had an odd way of working; she had saved the galaxy once, and was about to walk into hell once more to do so again.

And this is how she was repaid? She was alone again.

Tears slipped free despite her struggling to stop them, Ashira trembled, sorrow flooding through as everything suddenly hurt. It felt like a poison had been released in her heart, spreading to every nerve and setting it alight.

Maybe she should have dealt with her thoughts sooner, because she had only ever felt so helpless dealing with the loss of Nicole. It had taken her months to get over it before; yet here she was, hours before the final mission and breaking apart.

"Commander…"

A hand rest on her shoulder, and Ashira tensed, but didn't move at all. She knew who it was, some part of her thanking whatever deity watched for it, but another cursing that _she _had to see her like. She was supposed to be the strong one, to lead them with an unwavering fire. She hadn't even heard the Justicar enter.

"Samara," her voice was very low, barely a whisper, and broken. Ashira tried to control her breathing, tried to force herself to _stop crying_ - but it just got worse. The Commander curled her fingers into her arms, her whole body tense. She couldn't trust her voice to be any louder, "Miranda send you?"

She heard a slight shuffle of movement, not able to see anything with her forehead against the desk. "No, I came to see you on my own accord. You gave me reason for concern after our last conversation," her eyes briefly flickered to the picture on the Commander's desk, then back to the crying figure herself. She was surprised, Ashira rarely showed emotion, true emotion anyway, the Commander was good at convincing people to change their views, a good actor in that regard. But otherwise, she was closed off entirely; except with her.

They had talked many times over the course of this entire mission, and Ashira had shown herself to be a loyal friend, willing to help in whatever way possible.

"_So I'm bait?" _Ashira had looked briefly shocked, before she started laughing, much to the Justicar's puzzlement at the time. _"Fantastic, after this lets do something less suicidal, like wrestle with **rabid**__Varren. Just give me a rundown of what we know."_ A way to ease tension, but Ashira had been afraid; she came though either way.

The Commander had opened up in their last conversation, revealing that even though she was confident in their mission, she wasn't sure she wanted to return. The only conclusion for that comment, was that the Commander wasn't just expecting to die, she _wanted_ it to happen.

Samara wasn't about to let one of the very few friends she had do that. Ashira was a good person, and she sure as hell didn't deserve death for all she had done. "You have done much for your crew, allowed yourself to be put in situations that could kill you before this mission is done; but not one has asked if something can be done for you." With a slightly bitter afterthought she noted herself among those who had ignored the Commander in that regard.

"_It's hard to notice others when you're doing your own soul searching," _the words the Commander spoke to Mordin after killing his former student flickered among her thoughts. _The faintest cry for help? _Samara frowned lightly at that thought; they had all been oblivious. It had been so subtle.

A low sob escaped the Commander before she spoke. "I deal with it better alone, as you can clearly see…" she muttered, bitterly. This was an old wound, ignored; neglected until it became too much to bare. "You cannot fight in this state; you've shown others that resolving their grievances helps them focus. You're strong, but even you cannot handle this alone."

Ashira moved sharply, shaking off the hand on her shoulder and moving away from her desk, stumbling slightly. Her breath jerked, voice trembling with tears, she was still trying to keep it in. "Doesn't matter. If I die at the _very end_ it's not going to matter. We destroy the collectors, end of story."

Samara watched the Commander with a very careful stare, she was cautious; she had been a near permanent squad member since joining. She knew what Ashira was like, provoking her or pushing her didn't get the best reaction. Right now, the soldier might as well be a live wire hovering over fuel, waiting to fall.

"What then? Cerberus might bring you back again. Even if they do not, the Reapers are still out there. Do you think no one will care for your death?"

Ashira's hands slowly curled into fists. "Why would they?"

Samara felt another frown tug at her brow. "You came into the lives' of your crew, gave them a reason to trust you, seamlessly made sure no one felt betrayed over another. You are the only reason they are not at each others throats, why they are at peace with themselves. Do you really believe your death will not affect them?"

"Stop it…stop trying to give me a reason…" Ashira's voice was pleading, weak; anguished. Another shuffle of movement behind her, another hand resting on her shoulder in the same place as before. The voice that spoke was softer than before, a hint of warmth breaking through, "are you so afraid that someone might care for you?"

Ashira opened her eyes by slits, more tears slipping free. "human's don't live as long; doesn't mean we suffer any less. I'm done with this existence, no more loss, no more pointless fights that only _delay_ the inevitable; I just want it to _end_."

"So you would give up because it is too painful? Too difficult?"

Ashira gave a very short, bitter laugh. "I see, my whining right now must sound so incredibly petty to you…I don't blame you." She moved away from that comforting hand again. "Oh, I've lost both of the only people I've ever allowed to get close to me." The Commander waved her arms around for mock dramatic emphasis, her laughter was little more than cold noise mixed with her crying. "Don't know who the _hell_ the woman on Illium is, she only looks like Liara - too cold, too distant. Obsessed with getting revenge and acts like I'm merely an annoyance when I simply ask how she's doing."

"Ashira…"

The use of her name, rather than rank or the 'nickname' of Shepard, didn't even work to catch her attention. "I might as well be dead by the way she acts, it doesn't matter, I never planned on going back to Illium after our last meeting, its not like she'll notice or care. I certainly _don't_….not anymore." She turned, brushing by her concerned friend and grabbing the picture on her desk. She stared at it with an intensity Samara had rarely seen from her, the conflict of emotions was obvious, hate, sorrow, rage; love.

Ashira might as well have been tearing herself apart inside.

The next words she uttered were empty, hollow; heartless. "I don't love her. She died…replaced by someone I don't know nor do I want to."

She tensed as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, the heat of another body hesitantly close. "I will not let you do this…never," Samara's voice was barely audible; but her tone was tense, controlled. "Your death would prove nothing, help nothing; it would only be an insult to the rest of the crew. In their eyes, the Collector's would have won. All of this would be for nothing."

Ashira was silent, dropping the picture in her hands with a quiet clatter. She didn't say a word for several moments, tension rising in the air, dread like a frigid poison. Finally, she managed to speak; her voice was low, and serious. "You're being very careful to keep yourself out of this. 'The Crew' 'they' 'their' - no 'us' 'we' or 'our'." She chuckled softly, a sad sound. "Didn't I do enough? Or are you keeping something from me…?"

The resolute silence from her friend was enough, Ashira turned around to face her; the Justicar tried to pull away only for Ashira to take hold of her wrists, gentle but firm. "I'm getting close, you don't usually pull back or stay silent unless its personal. Like the first time I asked about your investigation…"

A frantic thought process, with a very faintest look of panic in the eyes to show for it, followed Samara's lack of words. She started to back away, trying to pull back; she didn't want to be in this corner she'd gotten herself into. Figuratively speaking.

Ashira followed her steps, ensuring that no distance was put between them until Samara felt her back press into the wall. "Please, let it go," her voice wavered, trying to read the Commander's eyes. She had stopped crying, with only faint trails running down her pale face left in their wake. Ashira narrowed her eyes a little, and leaned close, but turned her head, so she could whisper to the Justicar. On the slightest chance that EDI was listening.

"I trust everyone in my squad to watch my back, to keep us alive-" she paused for a second, and her voice lowered. "But you are the only one I trust to see me for what I am-" Ashira released one of her wrists, lifting her hand to the side of Samara's neck, moving up a moment later to cradle her face. "The only reason I wouldn't die in this mission is to spare you the loss; you've suffered enough, had to be strong through so much, for so long."

Ashira tilted her head, her lips brushing against Samara's jaw. At this point she reacted, turning her head to deliberately push Ashira back, if only a little. But she didn't move her hand. She locked eyes with the human, her gaze barely guarded; there was a hint of fear. "Ashira, put the thought from your mind," her tone made it sound more like a plea than an order.

The Commander gave the slightest smile, "why? Because of your Code?" her voice lowered, and her smile faded to a serious look. "Or because I'm not the only one afraid to let someone in?"

Samara was quick to give a 'less' personal answer. "When this mission is done, my oath to you ends; I will be bound by the Code once more. A relationship is impossible…" she frowned, averting her eyes. Ashira leaned close again, "two broken warriors finding just a little happiness; the galaxy isn't going to end because of that." Samara looked back at her sharply; searchingly. "Why are you so different from anyone else I've met…?" she spoke in a low voice, trying to figure out how this young human could effect her so.

"You tell me," was all Ashira said, before leaning close, tilting her head to the side. In the dark cabin, alone with each other, neither uttered a word as their lips met. Any thought of further resistance fell away, and Ashira noted with the faintest smile Samara's arms wrapping around her waist.

But before anything else could happen, the silence was broken by a familiar, synthesized voice. "Commander, ETA fifteen minutes to the Omega-4 Relay; I suggest readying your gear before accompanying Jeff."

They had parted as soon as the first syllable passed EDI's 'lips', staring intensely and hearing the AI's voice as nothing more than a wordless drone. When EDI 'left' they were both silent, unmoving and unwilling to look away first.

But someone always has to go first…

"Commander…" the familiarity in her voice was gone, the Justicar's eyes guarded once more as if nothing had happened. So she wanted to believe. "Excuse me…" she withdrew completely, and turned away, leaving Ashira to her preparations.

The door gave a low hiss, closing behind her. She reached up, placing a hand over her mouth and frowning deeply. Where was her control just then? She just froze, no thought, no words, nothing to stop that from happening. Why?

On the other side, Ashira pressed her hands to the wall, hanging her head. Gritting her teeth, she turned away to the closet housing her armour.

She would live; and she would make sure Samara did as well.

No one was going to die today.

* * *

Thank you for reading, reviews would be much appreciated.

I may do more oneshots.


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